Swept Away
by Zavocado
Summary: Ever since Blaine's older brother Cooper ran off to become an actor, his life has been very different. He might only be thirteen, but all anyone wants to do is expect things from him and ignore his own hopes and dreams in favor theirs. PeterPan!Klaine AU. One shot. M/M , but they're only 13, so nothing crazy. Glee.


A/N: So this one is a little... unexpected. For me and now for you guys! I got inspired by a song at work ("All You Wanted" by Michelle Branch) and Peterpan!Klaine just sort of happened. I am leaving this is _**JUST A**__** ONE**_** SHOT_._**It's literally just the beginning of the story, where they met and Peter Pan tempts the other other away to Neverland.

Enjoy the little random fic and have some Klaine feels and Peter Pan feels, and a little bit of some Blam feels (Blaine's got a wee crush, but it's not reciprocated).

Swept Away

"I'll gut you!" Sam challenged, leaping off Blaine's bed and swinging his wooden sword until it clashed with Blaine's.

With a roar, Blaine swung his own sword through the air. The armor breast plate his brother had given him as a costume prop last year was still too big and one side drooped off his shoulder as he and Sam continued their epic battle. It was one for the ages, Prince Charming versus Captain Hook. Just another fantastic story and fantasy Blaine fully expected to be an actor for some day in his future.

"You'll never claw my belly, Hook!" Blaine returned, slashing his sword through the air and knocking Sam backwards. The other boy tumbled over with a loud _thump_ and clatter.

"Ouch! Blaine, that– "

"You're breaking character! I'm the Prince!" Blaine complained as Sam's sword hit the bookshelf and an entire row thundered down on the play rug. With a big sigh, Blaine lower his sword and helped Sam to his feet. "I told you that was the new move for this scene, Sam," he said in exasperation. "You're supposed to _duck_– "

"It's a little hard to duck when there's no were to move and one hand is a hook" Sam waved his right hand until the fake hook was flung across the room "and I've got a sword in the other– "

"Mike can do it," Blaine reminded him in annoyance.

"Mike's an amazing flexible dancer– "

"Boys! It's time for Sam to go home!"

They both groaned and sheathed their swords in their belts. Sam dug his school bag and coat up from the mess and set about putting them on.

"Mike said he's join us tomorrow," Sam told him. "His mother and the new baby have a nurse to help out now."

"That's good," Blaine said as he struggled out of his armor. "It'll be better once we can all rehearse our parts."

"Aye, Cap'n!" Sam saluted him with a cheeky grin. He settled his school bag over his shoulder, did up the last few buttons on his coat and then yanked Blaine into a hug. Blaine knew it was meant to be friendly – everything about Sam was friendly and nice and fun – but it made his heart do something funny in his chest. It was almost like there was a tiny little rabbit tap-dancing where his heart was. "See you at school!"

Blaine watched Sam disappear out onto the landing and then listened to him clomp his way downstairs. His whole chest felt strange. It never used to do that when Sam hugged him, but recently... He shook himself as his father's voice carried back up to him.

"Blaine, a word in the parlor!"

As quickly as he could, Blaine trampled downstairs and hurried into the parlor where his father was seated in their huge armchair. It was leather and rustic, an antique according to his mother. Blaine thought it smelled like old people's feet and moth balls.

"Blaine, your– what is the world are you wearing, young man?"

His father's eyes fixated on the belt and sword looped around his waist, and then up to the forearm plates he'd forgotten to taken off with the chest plate. He must look a mess in his father's eyes, but Blaine was a boy, just a few weeks past his thirteenth birthday with a voice still high and a smooth chin. There was no reason he shouldn't be allowed a bit of fun with his friends, and acting was something he hoped to pursue. Just like his brother.

"It's my armor, father. I was Prince Charming, fighting the evil Captain Hook and defending– "

"What have I told you about that nonsense, Blaine?" his father demanded with a scowl. He stood up and unfastened the belt looped around Blaine. "You're a young man now, not a boy having playtime in his nursery– "

"But we were _acting_," Blaine began to explain. "Like Cooper! I'm going to be the best on-stage actor there ever was– "

"Your brother is a foolish man, Blaine, and you'd be a fool to follow and idealize such mediocre ambitions. An _actor_," his father said under his breath, the disdain and contempt clear in his voice. "What utter nonsense– "

"But– "

"Not another word on such foolishness, Blaine," his father continued briskly. "Your grandparents are coming to dinner tonight and you'd best put away such talk if you know what's good for you. See to it that you have a bath and are cleaned up and down here to greet them promptly at a quarter to six. Do you understand?"

"I– "Blaine swallowed thickly and lowered his gaze to the floor. He hated when his father talked about Cooper in such a way. His brother might only have minor roles for the moment, but he was following his dreams in a way Blaine admired more than anything. "Yes, sir," he added feebly. "Should I put Harvey outside as well?"

"See that you do," his father answered, settling back down with his paper and digging a cigar out of the box that was always on to the little table beside the chair. Blaine hated that box more than he despised the chair. "You know your grandmother detests animals, especially that dog."

Jaw clenched, Blaine nodded and backed out of the parlor and returned to the second floor to get ready.

* * *

By six o'clock, Harvey was out on the patio, whining and pawing at the garden door, while Blaine settled in at his place beside his father at their dining room table. His grandfather always took the head seat when he visited, shunting Blaine's father to his right hand side. Blaine didn't like it, and he didn't think his father liked it much either, but nobody ever said anything about it.

Dinner was served promptly at ten after six once they were all settled, drinks had been served, and pleasantries were exchanged. Nobody spoke to Blaine except when he'd taken his grandparents coats at the door and accepted his grandmother's doting peck on the cheek. Evenings like this were for adult conversation and not the likes of a boy Blaine's age. As soon as the meal was over he'd be dismissed to clean up for bed and then his mother would stop in to make sure he was tucked in. before the adults retired for tea in the parlor.

Blaine didn't like evenings with his grandparents. All it meant was clouds of cigar smoke, business talk, and having to wear a very stiff suit.

As dessert was set on the table by their butler, something unexpected happened. His grandfather, after helping himself to a impressive slice of apple tart, directed his gaze towards Blaine and gave him an appraising look.

"You're growing up to be a fine young man, Blaine," he said slowly, carefully cutting a piece off his tart. "Quite handsome, too, for a boy of thirteen."

Blaine thanked him quietly and focused on his pie. His grandfather rarely spoke to him during meals. Not unless there had been some recent athletic or academic achievement on his part.

"Have you thought about sending the boy to Dalton, James?" his grandfather continued, turning to Blaine's father. "He needs a solid education and boys of his own kind if there's any hope that one of your boys will take over the firm."

Blaine's jaw dropped at the suggestion. Dalton meant leaving Lima. It meant being shipped off to a boarding school hours and miles away from home, where his family and friends weren't. It meant losing his best friend, Sam, because Sam's parents could never afford such a place. His father glanced at him, before returning his gaze to his grandfather.

"We discussed it," James admitted, glancing at Blaine's horrified expression once more. "I worry the distance may be too much for Blaine. He's sensitive in a way Cooper and I never were– "

"Oh, pish-posh," his grandfather rumbled. "I worry what sort of effect that riff-raff he hangs out with will have on him, James. That Sam boy, his parents are what? Grocers? Beggars? You expect Blaine to amount to anything without good connections? He'll learn to keep a stiff chin when he goes to Dalton and– "

"Sam's the greatest boy in the world!" Blaine snapped. The table fell silent and with a dawning horror, Blaine realized he'd spoken out loud.

"_Blaine Devon_," his father scolded, but his grandfather cut him off almost immediately.

"You see what I mean? He's already losing the good manners instilled in him from hanging out with those boys," his grandfather said pointedly, casting his eyes on Blaine disdainfully. "You'll do well to hold your tongue, Blaine. Propriety is even about the law in this family."

"I– " Blaine flushed both in anger and embarrassment. How dare he say that about Sam and his family. The Evans' were the nicest family in town. They always welcomed Blaine into their home and had even taken care of him until the doctor had arrived when he'd tumbled out of the tree house last summer and broken his arm. "Forgive me, sir. Sam– I'm very fond of him," he decided, folding his hands in his lap and ignoring his apple tart. Suddenly he wasn't very hungry.

"Hmm," his grandfather hummed. "You'll do well to forget such fondness. You aren't a boy anymore, Blaine, and it's time to stop acting like one."

"Yes, sir."

"You'll go to Dalton in the fall, and after four years there, you'll continue on to Harvard just like myself and your father," his grandfather continued with an air of finality. "There won't be any of this nonsense like your brother ran off for. Actors achieve nothing but foolishness."

Blaine nodded once more and bit his lip until he was dismissed. Back up in his room, he changed quickly and quietly, cleaned his teeth, and then climbed into his bed. He turned his back on the door. Ten minutes later, a soft knock rapped against it, and his mother's voice called to him.

"Blaine? Dear, are you in bed and decent?"

"Yes, Mother," he answered sullenly, hugging one of his pillows and staring out the window. He wanted more than anything to just leave and go find Cooper out in New York City. To become an actor and sing on stage and to never look back at any of them.

The door creaked open and his mother's soft footsteps carried over to him until the side of the bed dipped as she sat.

"Do you need anything? Water or a snack? You're a growing boy, after all, I know how hungry– "

"I'm fine," Blaine answered bitterly.

"Dear, I know you don't like it now, but... someday you'll see the good in what your father and grandfather want for you," his mother said gently. "It's what's for the best if you hope to be a good man someday."

"Right."

His mother sighed, squeezed his shoulder, and then stood up. He listened to her slippers pad back across the room.

"Goodnight, Blaine. Sweet dreams."

He didn't answer as the door clicked closed.

* * *

_Bright lights flicked down onto his face. There was a dark void beyond the sphere surrounding him. An audience; he could hear the scuffle of shoes and the quiet cough of a gentlemen in the third row. They'd come to watch him perform in his very first role to a sold out crowd. _

_Blaine beamed as his eyes drifted shut. Cooper was here, too. He could feel it. They were watching him, watching him immerse himself into the character he would be for the next few hours, waiting with bated breath to hear him sing his sorrows and triumphs. They were there, above him, watching and staring and–_

With a jolt, Blaine's eyes flickered open. Someone _was_ watching him, but it wasn't a dream audience or even his mother. It was a boy. A boy floating in mid-air over his bed. He gasped in surprise as the boy's eyes widened and he soared backwards, flattening himself against the wall as Harvey began barking at him.

Stunned, Blaine could only watched Harvey charged forward in pursuit, almost nabbing the boy's foot as he _flew_ out the window. Then he was suddenly back, like he'd been hooked to a rubber band that had been stretched to its limit and then sprung back to the window. Harvey growled and tugged backwards at something, and the window slammed shut, the boy disappearing from sight.

Blaine flung himself out of bed as Harvey started barking and attempting to climb the wall beside his bed. That boy had been _flying_. He might have just fallen to his death. He flung the window open once more and stared down into the back garden. It was too dark to see much, but he couldn't just leave him down there if he'd fallen. What if he was hurt or knocked unconscious?

As quietly as he could, Blaine hurried downstairs, dug a candle and match out of the cabinet in the front hall, and raced out to the garden. He searched the entire area, even peeked over the neighbor's fences, but there was nothing to be seem. Not hurt boys or broken benches where he might have crash landed. It was as if he hadn't fallen at all. But he must have. Boys couldn't fly.

After twenty minutes, Blaine returned to the house and back upstairs. Harvey had stopped barking at the walls and was now growling at the dresser in the hallway.

"Come on, boy," Blaine urged him, yanking on his collar until he started trotting into Blaine's room. "It must have been a really weird dream."

Harvey growled in apparent disagreement, but curled up obediently at the foot of Blaine's bed. It had to have been his imagination. There was nothing else to it. There was nothing out there and nobody at the window, but still Blaine rolled over and stared at the open window, wondering.

* * *

The following week was miserable for Blaine. His grandfather began coming over every night, schooling him in new subjects he would begin at Dalton, and telling him all of the new etiquette rules he must learn now that he was of a proper age to begin courting young ladies. The very idea made Blaine want to retch, but he listened silently and did as he was told. There was no arguing with his grandfather, especially not if the argument came from Blaine.

Of course, the biggest down side to his grandfather's new interest in him was that he was no longer able to see his friends after school to tell stories and practice his acting. He wasn't allowed any fun anymore. After school on Wednesday, Sam walked home with him, looking just as dejected as Blaine felt. He'd finally had a chance to explain everything to Sam at lunch earlier that day, and it hadn't gone well. Neither of them liked the idea of being so far away from each other.

"Do you really have to go?" Sam asked sullenly as they turned down the block to Blaine's house.

Blaine nodded mutely, and kicked at a pebble on the sidewalk. "He's already preparing me for the new subjects I'll take there," Blaine explained. "They don't want me to run off like Cooper did."

"But Cooper's following his dreams!" Sam declared proudly. "How could they not want you to do the same?"

"Because they want me to be a proper gentlemen," Blaine said hollowly. "They'd probably send me off tomorrow if they could."

"But– this isn't fair," Sam frowned as they climbed the steps to Blaine's house and paused outside the door. "I– maybe I can go, too– "

"Sam, it's too expensive for– "

"Well, I'll hideaway in your luggage," Sam insisted, eyes wild. "Come on, it'll be a great adventure. Just make sure you let me out to pee, all right?"

Blaine snorted and started laughing, but his laughter quickly subsided into tears. "I don't want to leave," he hiccupped as Sam hugged him tightly. "You're my best friend, Sam."

"You're mine, too," Sam murmured, and his arms squeezed Blaine tighter until Blaine's heart was hammering and that tap-dancing rabbit was more like a hammer.

Sam pulled back and tried to grin down at him in a hopeful sort of way. Blaine just wanted to stay here forever, or take Sam with him wherever he went. Whether it was New York or Dalton or wherever. Before he could think about it, Blaine raised up on his toes and pecked Sam on the cheek. Sam looked alarmed at the gesture, but–

"Blaine Devon Anderson, what in God's name are you doing?" his grandfather thundered from the bottom of the steps.

The next five minutes were a blur for Blaine. He was yanked out of Sam's embrace, his grandfather's voice booming angrily in his ear as Sam was shoved aside and Blaine was tossed into the parlor. His father appeared, alarmed by the noise and as soon as his grandfather explained what he'd witnessed, they were both shouting at him.

"What sort of devil nonsense is that street rat putting in your head?" his grandfather snarled.

"Is this still about that acting drivel you want to follow after Cooper with? It's not going to happen, Blaine!"

It went on and on until Blaine's mother entered the room and pulled her son into her arms as he tearfully listened to their remarks.

"Lyra, don't coddle him! He is not an infant!"

"You're shouting at him like he's just _murdered_ someone, James!"

"He kissed another _boy!_"

Silence filled the room after his father's shout. Blaine flinched and tried his best not to start sobbing. Why were they so upset? It was just a kiss on the cheek. It didn't have to mean anything. He was still going to follow along and live his life as they wanted him to. It wasn't as though he had any other choice.

"Now, see here, young man," his grandfather's crisp voice intoned sharply. "You are not to see that Sam boy again. I won't have him brainwashing you with his unnaturalness. I'll phone Dalton first thing tomorrow morning and see if we can't have you up there by the end of the week– "

"But Grandfather– "

"_No. _It is time that you grew up, Blaine. You'll start packing your things tonight."

His father's voice was so devastatingly harsh that Blaine only trembled and tried to turn back into his mother's embrace. Her arms remained limp at her sides, and instead he rushed from the room and hid away in his bedroom. Nobody wanted him here anymore. They didn't want a son, just a trophy.

* * *

It was much later that night, after hours of listening to arrangements being made downstairs and his parents arguing over sending him to Dalton so soon, when Blaine was woken by the clatter of something by the foot of his bed.

He sat up slowly, listening to the grumbling of an unfamiliar voice.

"Stupid shadow– won't you just stick back– don't you shake your head at me– "

Blaine peered quietly over the end of his bed and the sight that met him was astounding. It was the boy from the other night. The one who could fly!

"It's you!" Blaine gasped in amazement.

The boy startled and zoomed right up to the ceiling, tucking himself up on top of the wardrobe and staring down at Blaine nervously.

"It's okay," Blaine called up to him. "I– you can _fly._"

Slowly, tentatively the boy floated back down to the floor, watching Blaine nervously. He was quite beautiful as far as Blaine was concerned. No older than himself, but with a very fine face and sparkling blue eyes. It was his clothing that intrigued Blaine more, though. It looked as though it was made from a forest, but somehow managed to be quite stunning with its myriad of colors and textures. Purples, blues, greens, reds, oranges.

"I– who are you?" Blaine asked curiously, hopping off his bed and stepping closer. The boy backed away as if on instinct and stared at him.

"Who are you?" he returned almost defiantly.

"I asked first," Blaine said indignantly. "And you're a guest in my room," he added superiorly. "You do as I say."

The boy hesitated for a few more moments. His teeth sucked on his bottom lip as he glanced from Blaine to the door and then to a random spot on the wall.

"Kurt," he finally said, his chin tilting up some. "Hummel."

"Blaine Devon Anderson," Blaine replied, bowing a little as he'd been taught. "Welcome to my room!"

"It's not very well decorated, is it?" Kurt said, glancing around. "Are you colorblind?"

"What– no, I– my parents decorated it," Blaine answered, watching Kurt look around. "Do– it's not so bad."

"It makes my eyes hurt," Kurt disagreed. "There's nothing this terrible looking in Neverland."

"Neverland?" Blaine echoed with a frown. "Where's that?"

With a grin, Kurt turned towards the window and pointed. "Second to the right and then straight on 'til morning."

Brow furrowed, Blaine looked at where Kurt was pointing. He was pointing at the stars, which seemed rather odd to Blaine.

"That sounds very far away," Blaine said as Kurt turned back to him. "Doesn't your mother worry when you go so far away?"

Kurt's face fell at Blaine's words. "Don't have one of those," he said gruffly.

"I- I'm sorry– "

"It's fine," Kurt said quietly, stepping past Blaine. Blaine couldn't see how it could be.

"But then your father must– "

"Don't have one of those, either."

Blaine's stomach sunk through the floor at Kurt's words. No wonder he was flying around at night all by himself. There were no parents to stop him or to tuck him in at night. He wouldn't want to go to bed either. For a moment, Blaine was very grateful for his mother and father, even with everything they were planning for him.

Kurt grunted in frustration as he grabbed at the wall and, with a jolt, Blaine realized that he'd just grabbed his shadow and that it was _struggling to get away_.

"Is that– but how– "

"I can't get it to stick," Kurt admitted in annoyance. "He got loose the other night when– "

"I remember," Blaine cut in. He thought for a moment as Kurt struggled to pull his shadow and feet back together. "Do you think it would stay if I sowed it on? My mother taught me," he added in case the other boy thought it a strange thing for a boy to know.

"Yeah, maybe," Kurt answered uncertainly. "It's worth a shot."

Blaine hurried downstairs and dug out his mother's sowing box, found a good needle and thread, and went back upstairs. Kurt was still struggling with his shadow, now on the floor where he had part of it pinned.

"Hurry will you?" Kurt gasped, slapping at the shadow's hand as it tried to mess with his hair.

Blaine settled down quickly and got to work. It took a while at first, but the more he got done the less Kurt's shadow struggled until he finished the second foot, and cut the thread. Kurt hopped up excitedly and kicked his feet out to test it. The shadow stayed in place, not even its arms moved unless Kurt's did.

Kurt let out a little squeak, and bounced right into Blaine's arms, almost knocking him over with the force of his hug. Blaine's chest fluttered like it did with Sam'sembraces, but it was different, too. It was like his insides were floating and made of the sweetest, softest ice cream in the world. Kurt's chin hooked right over his shoulder and his arms were strong and warm. Embarrassed by how much he loved this strange boy's embrace, Blaine eased out of it and smiled.

"I guess you're all set then," he said.

"I– yes, I suppose," Kurt muttered, kicking at the floor and folding his hands behind his back. "I– "

"Yes?" Blaine asked hopefully. He didn't know what he expected to happen or what he could possibly want from this strange boy. All Blaine knew was that he liked him as much as he liked Sam. He'd be a lot of fun with their acting adventures.

"Does Prince Charming ever save his friends and defeat Captain Hook?"

The question was so unexpected for Blaine. Kurt's tone was so innocent, too, even childlike. There was a hopeful wonder in his eyes that surprised Blaine. It made him look a lot younger. Much like the boy Blaine still felt he was inside.

"Of course he does," Blaine exclaimed in delight. "He defeats the pirates and saves the princess, too! And they all live happily ever after. All the best stories end happily."

Kurt sighed in relief. "Oh, good. The girls will be thrilled."

"The girls?" Blaine repeated curiously.

"Oh, the Lost Girls," Kurt explained. "Of Neverland. There's Santana and Rachel and Tina and Quinn and Mercedes... do you want to meet them?"

It was said differently than Kurt's last question. Not innocent or with a sense of wonder, but enticingly. For a moment, Blaine felt an odd tug in his chest. Kurt was inviting him to Neverland, wherever that was. He could go there and maybe never come back. He wouldn't have to deal with his parents or Dalton or growing up to be a gentlemen for at least a little while longer.

"I... I don't know," he said, biting his lip. "Is it far?"

"It's Neverland," Kurt said, rolling his eyes. "There are no parents or people to tell you want to do or anything bad. But there are fairies and mermaids and Indians and pirates– "

"Pirates?" Blaine gasped in excitement. "Really? Is there one with his hands on backwards and– "

"There's every kind of pirate," Kurt told him with a laugh. "And you get to be a kid forever."

"R- really?" Blaine said in surprise. That seemed impossible.

"Yup, I've been thirteen for... oh, a while," Kurt decided with a little shrug. "It's the greatest place ever. I promise."

Blaine watched Kurt smile hopefully at him. He wanted to go if everything Kurt said was true. He could leave all the bad things here behind. Never worry about growing up or being forced to go to Dalton or Harvard or not being able to follow his dreams.

"I– "

A bright little light suddenly zoomed in from the hallway, making high-pitched noises and circling Blaine's head frantically.

"Britt!" Kurt said in relief. "Where'd you get off to? I was worried!"

The little light dimmed enough for Blaine to see a small woman with wings in the middle.

"Is that a _fairy_?"

"Yup, she's my fairy. Britt, this is Blaine."

"Hi," Blaine said shyly as Britt circled closer to him and then shook herself at him. He coughed as a cloud of sparkles hit his face.

"See? Britt wants you to go to," Kurt informed him brightly. "She's already covered you with fairy dust so you can fly!"

"I can– oh my– "

Kurt laughed again as Blaine floated a few feet off the ground before dropping back down. The sound was like music to Blaine. A beautiful unwritten or nameless tune he'd yet to figure out on the piano downstairs. Kurt was offering him an escape, a place to go where his parents could never follow.

He watched as Kurt stepped up onto the window ledge and Britt flew out past him and flipped about in the air. From downstairs he heard the sounds of his parents voices approaching the stairs and then ascending them. No doubt they were coming up to check on him and tell him their _good news_.

"Come away," Kurt encouraged him softly. "Come with me to Neverland."

Kurt floated up and out of the window as Blaine hurried to the ledge, watching him. There was a beautiful, full smile on Kurt's face that promised everything Blaine had ever thought about wanting in his thirteen years of life. Freedom to be himself, a wonderful friendship, and nobody to tell him he couldn't follow his dreams. Yet he still turned around and hesitated as his parents voice's murmured outside his bedroom door.

If he left it would break his mother's heart. He'd never see Cooper again either. Or Harvey or Sam.

Kurt's nose nudged against his ear, his breath warm and pleasant as he hovered behind him.

"Forget them, Blaine," he whispered. "Come to Neverland where you'll never have to worry about growing up ever again."

He turned around and was met with Kurt's huge smile again. There was a bright twinkle in his eyes that held adventures and wonders Blaine could scarcely imagine. After a moment, Kurt held out his hand. There was a knock on the door behind Blaine, but he ignored it.

"I can take you away from here."

Instead of speaking, Blaine slid his hand into Kurt's and felt his feet leave the window ledge. Kurt's grip was firm and made Blaine's spine tingle as they floated out of the window and over the back garden. He wasn't going back. There was no reason to ever go back and have his dreams crushed.


End file.
